


Anti-Heroines

by Quenlin Deorres (orphan_account)



Series: Birds of Prey [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Birds of Prey - freeform, Cameos, Dark, Female Anti-Hero, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, Gritty, Harley and her Gang of Harleys, Other, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-08 00:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7735210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Quenlin%20Deorres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A vengeful crossbow-wielding vigilante who was trained by The Arrow, an Earth-2 metahuman doppelganger of Laurel Lance with an actual sonic scream and a literal cat burglar with sticky fingers for jewels who may or may not have nine lives. What could go wrong, Barbara?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti-Heroines

**Womankind has been oppressed since man figured out how to smash rocks together. The world was dominated by man, and women were seen as inferior. To this day, being a woman is still a task more difficult than some realize. Not because of misogyny which, granted, is still as alive and breathing as racism and homophobia in the twenty-first century. But because on a primal level, men still believe to be more powerful.**

**But the wiring that leads man to believe this about themselves is crossed with the wiring in a woman that makes her a hundred times more vicious than a man could ever dream to be. There's a particular thrill about putting a man in his place that just makes the ice in my veins _tingle_. But that's part of the problem.**

**Being impossibly cold with no source of heat by my side makes me... a little crazy. Especially around human life. The only way to feel warm is to kill and eyebrows are starting to go up because of how many missing men there are.** **Pity.**

* * *

 

The jail cell was small, smaller than most of the other inmates' cells. Probably. Then again, she was one of the most dangerous people in this facility. She knew it. They knew it. Her dead father knew it. After all the trouble they had gone to encase her in a space they could monitor 24/7 it wasn't like they were gonna install some windows. Naw. She wasn't deserving of that small liberty.

To their credit, since the day she looked Oliver dead in the eye and told him that he was right--killing her father didn't change anything--she'd been trying to get out of here. Iron Heights. It seemed simple enough; criminals came and went. Some were exonerated, others escaped. Since it was clear, three years later, that she wouldn't be exonerated she had decided a long time ago she'd escape.

They had added a whole new wing for metahumans, 'cause that was a thing now that had happened while she was rotting away. Any time she got out of her cell, she had done her best to examine every corner of the prison, every cell and inmate. She knew it better than she now recognized her reflection. Three years had made her hair longer, tangled and her unblemished skin held a pasty underhue from prison food. If her mother could see her now she'd have a heart attack.

In her time here she had gained the trust of many, but trusted few herself. Most were wound-tight to insanity or on the brink from their lives before jail. One man, William Tockman AKA Clock King, was the exception to her rule of telling anybody about her life. He knew it all, her childhood, Michael, her father, her descent into the darkness. And, subsequently, she knew everything about him, too. His sister, his disease, his time running from life. So the day his MacGregor's Syndrome finally caught up to him, after years of sharing clandestine plans and dreams of leaving Iron Heights, was the day Helena decided she'd be free.

His death gave her the distraction to the guards she needed.

Helena knew of one of the metahumans who were in the new wing. She knew of a man who could control the weather who went by Mardon. The other man who was going to help her escape was the son of a psychotic criminal called The Trickster. He went by Axel, and was a stone's throw away from her cell. He promised he had a way out, but she wasn't going to trust him to come back for her if he did. So she stole the shiv she had seen him gamble to get and slipped it out from her hair.

As soon as she reached the bars of her cell, a guard wheeling her tray of food down the hall materialized. She shrunk back from them, watching him thoughtfully as he lobbed the tray into the cell across from her's. Having noticed her watching, he explained, "With Tockman's death the warren decided that today was going to be an enclosed lunchtime. Didn't want you crazies getting any ideas from seeing his body."

"I take it that means I don't get to say goodbye." She said, with a hopeful sounding lilt at the end of her words. He jammed the tray through the lock-opening slit of her bars and brusquely grunted. "That's a no." Helena muttered, taking her tray to the slab of mattress pressed up against the wall. She ate as she listened to the guard's steps and the wheels of his trolley get further and further away. She'd have to wait until it was safe again.

Axel hit his bars with his fork three times, their secret calling, but she ignored him. Placing down her knife and fork, she looked at her cement-cubed desert cake in disgust. She never got desert. She didn't know if it was a punishment specifically for her thing or an inmate thing, but she never asked. Taking her plastic knife, she pressed it against the hard surface and pressed.

 _Snap_.

Of course they'd use the kind of plastic cutlery that can't cut. She turned away from the mattress and sat cross-legged on the floor, undoing her messy bun by taking the twisted shiv out of her knotted hair. She slid it into her sleeve and crawled across the floor. It was shaped like an excruciatingly thin painting knife, which would make releasing Axel and Mardon (if she decided to) even harder. Helena worried her lip between her teeth as she carried out the delicate work, fearing the same snap she had heard from her plastic knife.

At that thought, she paused and threw a look over her shoulder. Her wild black locks swung like she was in a poor shampoo commercial. She thought she had heard voices. Helena had sat around listening to inmates telling war stories and ghost stories, they were all the same in this place, but not once had the hearing voices event occur to her. She had kept a firm grip on her sanity while the three years went by. Tightly holding the shiv in her enclosed fist, she dragged herself closer to where she was hearing it. The low hum she remembered liking when her driver would dial the radio down, almost to the same octave Helena remembered where she could barely make out the Britney Spears song playing in the headphones of the woman standing next to her in the line at the bank.

The spidery crack in the center of her cement-cake left its black filling open. Odorless. That was strange. Prison food was never odorless, it was thick and heady and greasy. Never in a good way. She got closer to it and prodded the hefty square, getting the shiv out to dissect it further. But she didn't need to. As soon as she spotted the earpiece, micro-sized down to a fifth of her pinkie, she latched it onto her ear and held her breath in desperate anticipation.

"There you are, finally." The voice on the other end exclaimed, though she had no idea how she could see her. Had she hacked into the camera that was planted in the corner of the east wall? Helena looked up into it. "Yes, yes, I can see you and now you can finally hear me. But you have to follow my every instruction, girl. I mean it, word-for-word because otherwise this prison break won't work. Got it?"

Helena nodded a fraction of an inch. Was she dreaming? This was all so incredibly  _surreal_.

"Good." The Voice sounded pleased with herself. Perkily, she added, "You have a shiv, which is good but not great. In that cake I've added a butterfly knife that's about the size of your big toe." Helena dug into the brick-square, satisfied that she could pull apart the heavy log with her bare hands. "Surprised? I was too, I didn't know they made them that small. Okay, now Iron Heights uses a mix of old-fashioned and modern era so while can lockpick your cell you won't be able to get out of that wing without a keycard."

Helena nodded again, more vigorously this time. The guard was probably nearing the last stop down the hall, so she had to act fast. Flipping out the knife to its fully-erect state, she had no time to reminisce about the feeling of a weapon in her hand and how scarily it felt like it completed her. With the knife, Helena sharply turned and stabbed at the lock until it gave under her fingers with the heaviest heartfelt sigh she thought her body could vocalize.

This was it.

She was out.

"You're not out yet, Helena," The Voice in her ear reminded her, grounding her, "We've still got to clear this wing, get to the north staircase unspotted and exit. Now, don't worry about the cams. I've looped them on yesterday's feed of the same time but Iron Heights is consistently being watched by top dogs, so unless you want to be puppy chow..." She left that open-ended and Helena bolted out of her cell without needing further encouragement.

"Helena!" Axel hissed, gasping theatrically. Helena froze. Shit. She hadn't thought about the other inmates. Half of them would be cheering her on, silently. The other half would be bitterly screaming for the guards. Which one was Axel going to be?

The Voice snapped, "Uh-uh. Don't even think about it. Keep moving. There's no time to release anybody else, Helena, _don't be a hero_."

Those words bounced around in Helena's head as she sprinted past Axel, charging toward the guard with her knee raised to split open his nose. Swiping the keycard and going through the north exit was a breeze past that. Pressing that red emergency button, the door crackled to life and lifted like a red curtain. Ducking under it, Helena instinctively snatched for the butterfly knife she had stashed in her shoe when she saw those two looming figures. Their shadows stretched out like long strips of black paper.

"About time." One of them purred, checking her nails. She was wearing a slick bodysuit that looked like leather, but was highlighted with subtle blue shadows making Helena doubt it was leather. The neck of it stretched into a mask, shrouding around her eyes and leaving a wide gape for her red lips and nose. Ears stuck out from the top of her head, and orange-streamed goggles were strapped behind the stuck-out faux ears. Thigh-high, thick-heeled matte black boots completed the outfit.

"That same voice in your head told us to meet you here." The other woman told her. She had a dominatrix getup, with a corset that branched out into a slitted cape that flapped in three triangular stripes behind her mesh waist. Boots, gloves and a choker went with it. Helena stepped forward.

"Wait, I know you." She said. "You're Laurel Lance, right?"

She smirked. "Yes, but not the one from your earth. It's a long story." She brusquely shouldered past her, her leather cap trailing against the floor and flapping as she walked. Her hand reached out to catch the edge of the uplifting door and she nailed them with an expectant look of impatience.

The other woman looped her arm through Helena's. "We've still got to go in to get your gear." She explained, her voice as smooth as dripping honey. "Our friend will tell us how, but in the meantime... I'm Selina."

* * *

Helena was a dark-haired, fair-skinned beauty with a sort of regal grace to her. That wasn't to say she was a pushover. Selina had read the stories of The Huntress. If there was one thing she wasn't it was daddy's little girl.

As Selina peered around the corner of the hallway, the keycard Helena had stolen stooped in her back pocket, she wondered if The Voice had selected the three of them for any particular reason. Immediately, she set her mind to work to figure out any similarities that could have pooled them together. She didn't know this Voice, or what it wanted, but nothing good ever came from a voice in someone's ear.

Apparently, she had also helped Laurel get out of prison. Selina had never been caught in Gotham, so they didn't have that in common. They were all ravenettes. Upon a second look, she noticed Laurel's hair was actually a warmer honey brown, her skin tone tanner than Selina's own olive complexion. She watched the other woman's stride, long and powerful, but almost overcompensating. They were all dangerous, she was among friends ( _supposedly_ ).

Then it hit her. She didn't know about her own home earth or what she had done there, but she knew Laurel had destroyed buildings with her scream and killed many along with them in Central City. Helena had hunted down her father, killed his men until his crime empire was overthrown and his head was in her lap. That happened in Star City. Selina herself had killed too. When she needed to. When she thought she wouldn't survive the odds, but that's what bonded the three women to this Voice. 

They were all murderers.

The thought suddenly made the intentions of this Voice sinister, and Selina froze up. Laurel gave her a crude shove between the shoulder blades, doing little but hefting her forward. She was too graceful to actually stumble. Side-eyeing her, Selina flicked a paw through her hair and jetted forward.

Leaping in the air, higher than every average woman, Selina stretched out her palms. As the wind broke around her, and the floor rushed toward her, Selina gripped the guard's skull between her hands. Using the momentum, she rolled her body violently to lurch her feet to the ground. The guard span in her claws, and Selina thrusters forward. His head cracked against the cement, denting the wall, as Helena swept her leg across the guard's.

He slumped to the floor, out cold. Laurel hummed lightly. "Good teamwork, girlies." She stepped over the guard, boots clacking, and snatched the keycard from Selina's back pocket. She continued to sashay ahead, swiping to unlock, as Helena and Selina shared a knowing look. "Hurry up Huntress, and get your gear."

"We'll keep lookout." Selina said. Helena went through the opened gate, disappearing out of sight as Laurel came to stand beside Selina.

"Uh, guards are coming your way. Through the east stairway." The Voice informed. "Helena, you might want to hurry."

Laurel smirked. "Don't worry, we're on it." She rushed forward, slinging her cape back. Selina hesitated, the feeling of taking orders still alien to her. With Laurel acting so systematically and quickly, it made Selina think she had been taking orders her whole life. Or at least a large chunk of it.

The Black Siren, as The Voice called her, waited until the guards came through the door with batons and stun-guns at the ready. Selina thought her jaw had unhinged by the way she widened it, and then nothing but  _sound_ filled the air so intensely it jarred Selina's vision. Instinctively, she clapped her hands over her ears as she watched the glass shatter around the guards. The directed sonic scream brought them to their knees as Laurel's lungs finally gave out.

Only one burly stubborn guard was left standing. Laurel smiled, a full-fledged mischievous no-good smiled, and yanked her knee up into his face. Blood ran down from his nose and ears. He collapsed to the floor, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Could you get a seizure from overstimulation of sound?

"You guys ready?" Helena asked, having fully changed into her vigilante outfit. Her crossbow hung from her hand like an extended limb.

"Yep." Laurel whistled as she stomped over the fallen guards, seemingly bored.

Selina followed. "Love the boots, Hel."

* * *

The Voice led the three women to an empty safe house. Laurel glared as the other two set up shop around her. What was stopping them from leaving? She didn't have a life on this earth, not with Zoom gone, but they did. So why did they stay with her, awaiting The Voice's beck-and-call?

She stood in the corner of the room, leaning on a beam with her arms crossed. Selina was telling Helena how she was reading about her father some plus years ago and applauding her for what she did. It took a stonecold bitch to kill their father, so that Laurel could respect. If Zoom hadn't killed her's, she would have made sure Quentin's ears bled until an aneurism took hold.

"So Laurel," Helena chimed, "What's your story? How'd you get to this earth? The Laurel I remember was so different."

"Was?" Selina repeated.

"That birdie went bye-bye." Laurel blew a kiss at Helena and stalked off. She hated being compared to that righteous airhead. Black Canary was a fraud, she wore a choker that made her project her screams. Black Siren was the real deal. She only wished she could have twisted and shaped Canary under her fingertips to have watched her bloom into a villain her namesake could only dream to live up to.

"Hey girls," The Voice chirped, "Your work isn't over yet, so don't get comfortable in that abandoned recycling center. For now, that'll be the focal point of where you meet but head to the streets. I've sent a car waiting for you."

"No." Laurel growled. "Tell us what we're doing, why you've put us all together."

Helena nodded. "Agreed. Give us a reason to put our eggs in your basket."

The Voice snorted. "How about I got you out of jail, hm? Do as I say, get in the damn car, or I'll send you to a place worse than isolation." She clicked off, buzzing harshly in their ears.

"Bitch." Selina murmured, throwing the earpiece out. "Can she really do that?"

"She's bluffing." Laurel stated, crunching Selina's earpiece under her thick-soled boot. "She's useless, powerless to us, without these things." Ripping out her own, she tossed it to Helena and whirred around. "If you two are any kind of smart," She threw over her shoulder, "You'd follow me out of this shi--"

Selina launched herself forward, clasping Laurel. Her nail snagged on the material shrouding her shoulder as she yanked her backwards, narrowly escaping the hood of the SUV that blasted through the wall. Laurel screamed as bricks and debris exploded around them, dust clouds swimming upward. Helena crouched backwards, throwing an arm over her eyes and blocking her nose.

"You bitches really thought I needed an earpiece to get to you?" The Voice fumed, from the car's radio. Helena marvelled at how she had managed to plunge it through the wall by _hacking_. "The fact of the matter is that I have given you all a purpose and brought you together for a reason. Trust in that fact and get in the car. You're going to go hunt a fugitive down for me."

Laurel grunted. "Fine. But I'm driving." She opened the unblemished car door and sat behind the wheel, awaiting for the other women to gather their cool and join her. "You're a special kind of cunt, y'know that?"

"I also go by Oracle."

* * *

 **They call him... The Joker.** **But my puddin' is no joke! That meanie Waller got me with a hundred tranqs, back in Gotham. She was tryin' to get my puddin', so of course I let him throw me in front of him to get away. Batsy was right behind 'im! I've been waiting in that cage since then, for the day he comes to my fairmaiden rescue.**

**That was months ago. MONTHS! They call _me_ crazy, but at least I'm _loyal_. But so are my Harleys, and take back the night we will. Today, it's Topaz City. Tomorrow, who knows? Maybe Star City, take out that green bean archer Waller's so fond of.  _Ha!_**

**But for now, I owe her. Frosty's the one that let me escape, so I'll dolefully carry out her masta plan. Even if it means I get caught again. She'll come back for me, I know she will. She'll send someone, like she did today. A.R.G.U.S. won't see it comin'. Neither will Barbs. I won't ask questions Frosty's not ready to answer, I know the role she wants me to play and I play it well.**

**After all, what's a Joker without his Harley Quinn?**

* * *

"Remind us why it is, exactly, you can't chase this fugitive on your own?" Helena asked, loading up her crossbow while Selena sharpened her arrows with her...  _nails_? "Why get three criminals and not request Team Arrow's help, instead?" Helena sensed the squaring of Laurel's shoulders and anxiety of Selena's pause, knowing they were both desperate to get their hands on some answers too.

There was a pause long enough for Helena to contemplate The Voice had switched off from them. Left them alone in the silence of the SUV she had somehow hot-wired and hacked over to that warehouse. But, no. The Voice, or Oracle, cleared her throat and somberly said, "It's an origin story I'd rather save for when you catch the bad guy."

Laurel scoffed. "How exactly are we supposed to do that?"

The GPS flickered to life, downloading a map of Topaz City interlocking with its sister-neighbor city Star City. Separated only by Coast City and situated in proximity to be borderlined by Hub City, Topaz was a qauint and quality place of tall skyscrapers, hot summer sidewalks and a notoriously known nitty and gritty crime industry. The green line was propelling the SUV down the main highway, requesting a left in twenty meters.

"Never ceases to amaze." Selina quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Glad to hear it." Oracle said. "Now, as you were."

"You haven't told us who we're catching." Helena impatiently gritted out, through clenched teeth.  She was starting to realize the similarity between her and the other two chosen for Oracle's escapade. She didn't know if it'd work well in a team setting, but hoped Oracle wasn't as batshit as she seemed to be on the surface.

Oracle managed to load a TCPD crime factfile on the fugitive, through the small screen placed above the soundsystem she was working through. QUINZEL, HARLEEN. "The A.R.G.U.S. file was mostly redacted, and as we speak I'm working on breaking through Amanda Waller's firewalls to get as much info on her as possible for you guys. But the main gist is there for you to read."

"She was in the Suicide Squad?" Helena frowned. "Why isn't Amanda hunting her down, right now?"

"Because." Oracle flatly stated. "She died while you were in captivity."

Laurel smirked. "Good. The Wall was a vicious bitch on my Earth. Glad to know some things translate." She side-eyed Helena with a curious intent that made the other vigilante self-conscious. "What else do we know about her?"

"She's unhinged." Selina read. " _Fun_."

Helena back-tracked. "Wait. If she's from Gotham, don't you know her?" She asked. Selina hooked her nails deeper into the seat she was holding, her jaw clenching. Helena opened her mouth to repeat the question, when a force slammed into her side. The whole car quaked, and raucious laughter filled her ears. High-pitched and squeaky, like a cartoon character's. Color screamed all around her, red and black the most prominent, and she blacked out in a pool of blood and glass.

* * *

Selina hated being tied up. There was a certain BDSM element that pleased her when she did it to other people, but to lose the power herself... nuh-uh. That just wasn't for her, and she was one kinky bitch so what did that tell you? She flexed her claws, not yet daring to slit open her eyes. That bubbly inhumanly caricatured voice was somewhere near and she didn't want to let Harley know she was awake. Not quite yet.

"Ms. Quinn?" She heard a masculine voice say, stumbling and frightful.

Harley hummed in annoyance. "What?"

"Bolly got the water. Did you want us to hose them down then apply the cattle prod or...?"

"Yes. Obviously. Like I said the first time. Now, I have a meeting with my new boss." Harley gushed. "How does this look?"

"Spectacular, Harley." He answered.

"Why thank you, Harvey." She drawled in an exaggerated Texan accent. "I tip my hat to you, sir."

"Who are you getting all dressed up for?"

She clucked her tongue. "What've I told you about prying?" Harley tsked. " _But_ , if you must know it's who got me out of that awful A.R.G.U.S. prison." A heavy wooden object scraped against the floor. "Gotta jet. Make sure you really get 'em good!" She shrieked, "Really send a message. Blood and death is okay, just not with this one." Selina felt Harley's footsteps draw closer, her shadow obscuring her blacked-out vision to a deeper shade of darkness. It was all she had in her not to tense as Harley slowly but surely planted a big wet one, full-on the lips. "Meow-meow, kitty." Harley said, smacking her lips together. " _Ciao_!"

Harley's boots seemed to echo as she walked away. Selina counted four, maybe five, minutes of solemn silence and her trying to snip away at the ropes binding her wrists. Harley knew what she was doing in tying Selina up, making sure her claws couldn't reach the rope. A stream of ice cold water doused her in the face, the pressure of it blindingly painful. Beside her, Helena screamed as she awoke and Laurel, at her back, jerked violently. She was muffled, gagged Selina assumed.

Around her, Selina counted three Harley goons. She knew there was more by the long-stretched shadows, projected by the overhead bare lightbulb. When it came to being a villain, Harley went with the classics. Even rented out an empty storage warehouse. Each goon in front of Selina had a cattle-prod in hand, along with a styled weapon of choice. The goon with the half-black, half-purple outfit and hair had a serrated knife, while the one sporting half-black, half-white colors was holding a semi-automatic tucked under her armpit. Selina was sensing a pattern here. Harley always did love color.

The half-black, half-white goon stepped forward eagerly. She jetted out her cattle-prod, inches with Selina's hissing face, when a half-green bozo (and ostensibly the only male of the bunch) stopped her. She glared at his grip on her slender ebony wrist.

"Harley said to take it easy on that one, Harlem." He said. Harvey, Selina remembered Harley calling him. Wow, these names were getting old fast.

Helena, beside her, shook her head. "I knew you knew her."

"It's not like that." Selina insisted defensively.

Harlem cracked the back of her hand across Selina's face. A small smile played on her lips as the cloud of dull red pain seeped away. Selina spat blood. "You're going to lose a hand for that." She said darkly, not looking up.

"How are you going to manage that?" Harlem taunted, doing what all goons do and getting cocky by getting close. Selina rammed her head forward, feeling her cranium knock against the soft cartilage of Harlem's nose and busting her white-coated lips. "Daughter of a bastard." She groaned, letting her semi clatter to the floor hazardously as she cupped her face. Selina darted for it, the ropes and the other two women's dead weight holding her back.

"Enough!" The green guy, Harvey, exclaimed. He bent over at the waist, picking up the semi and juggling it with his knuckledusters. Those would come in handy, Selina noted. "Let's get this over with, Harleys." He said, becoming the de facto leader of the group. Selina eyed the disparagement behind Harlem's face and smiled. In a matter of seconds she was already gathering their weaknesses and the social structures of the team without Harley. Briefly, she wondered how the other two were doing.

If Helena's bloodcurdling cry was anything to go by, she'd say  _not well._

"Easy, Bolly." Harvey said, "Water before electricity. Hasn't Harley taught you anything?"

"Harleen Quinzel was a psychiatrist before raging down the vigilante path." Helena wheezed. "She's using you all to do her dirty work, you idiots!"

Harvey smiled bitterly and weaseled out of Selina's vision. She squeezed Helena's hand fondly, thanking her, as now there was only Harlem and another girl who was draped in pink to worry about. Considering Harlem was too busy holding her blood to notice Selina and the pink-schemed Harley was directing her jewel-encrusted sword at Laurel's throat, Selina didn't worry too much about either of them seeing her struggle to free herself. In the five rough minutes she'd had once Harley Quinn had left, she'd managed to slid the rope down to the metacarpal bones of her fingers. Halfway. But that was only to her right hand, and if Harley was even a half-decent villain she would have de-clawed Selina.

"You think we don't know that?" Harvey taunted. He had grabbed Helena's chin and she was whipping her head around to get away from him. He curled his fingers in deeper to her jaw. Selina heard Helena's teeth grinding and looked over with a panic-stricken expression. "Why do you think we signed up to be in her Gang of Harleys?

"You're disposable." Helena jested. "Pawns." Her fingertips scraped the ropes burning Selina's skin and flitted under them. She pulled upwards, giving enough leeway for Selina's hand to come free. The sudden twist of her shoulder alerted Harvey, and he swung his rifle to her temple. She froze. "Allow us to make this easier for you, all. I'm Harvey Quinn. The big she-beast you just headbutted, Selina, is Harlem Harley. The girl in orange is Bolly Quinn, beside her in purple is Carli Quinn. Hanuquinn's the blue chick and Harley Queens is the one with the sword to your gagged friend's throat. Get all of that?" He patted her cheek. From the shocked whine in the back of Laurel's throat, Selina guessed that Harvey probably signaled to one of the other girls to hose her down. The subsequent spay to Helena beside her added to how already soaked through to the bone she was.

"I just have one question, Hel." Selina said.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Do we kill them and leave a message for Harley, or use them to find her?" 

"What're you talking about--" Harvey began. Selina sliced down her leg, severing the thick ropes binding her knees together and shredding through a few layers of skin on the way. She could live without these pair of jeans, as long as she got out of this warehouse  _alive_. Cocking her foot, she snapped out her leg to boot his jaw and stretched out her arm to be able to free her other hand. Holding down the chair she had been locked down to, rooting herself, she flicked up her other leg as she lashed out her hands to tear through the rest of the rope for Helena and Laurel. Suspended momentarily in the air, her ankles locked around Harvey's neck, she palmed the floor and brought her knees to her chest. In doing so, his head smashed against the floor and provided a comfortable cushioning for her blind backwards roll.

Kicking the rifle over to Helena, who had chopped her hand across Hanuquinn's neck and was kneeing her back, Selina stayed in her defensive crouch as she surveyed the rest of the room. Laurel had ripped out her gag and had her hand around Harley Queens' throat, the sword dangling from Laurel's other hand. She cranked out her elbow and didn't flinch as she drove the sword through her pink and black striped nightie.

Helena had picked up both Hanuquinn's handguns and was keeping the rifle under her foot as she aimed the guns at Harvey. He had raised his hand and the remaining Harleys were still, awaiting further instructions. Selina looked to her side. Harlem Harley, dried blood crusted down her lip, was poised over Selina with one of Carli Quinn's hunting knives. Selina dodged the swipe and slithered behind her, holding her arm to place the knife to her throat and her other arm behind her back.

"No one else has to get hurt, here." Helena said.

Laurel dropped her dead Harley, the sword half in and half out of her dead corpse, and turned out. The sudden hefty thud had broken the silent negotiation of Helena's promise. "Right." She said, with a sarcastic smile. She opened her mouth, matte lipstick accenting the wide shape it took, and let her scream thrash through the enclosed space. In Selina's arms, Harlem Harvey had drastically quivered the knife across her own throat. The blood ran down her crop top as she continued to rattle on the floor, life ebbing away from her. The blue Harley at Helena's feet remained unconscious, but the rivulet of clear liquid that ran down her ears warned Selina that she may have joined the same fate.

Purple, green and orange were the only ones left. Helena looked up from where she was helplessly trying to block out the sound. Selina nodded, and lowered her hands for the split second it took to tackle Laurel to the ground. In literally knocking the breath out of her lungs, she finally shut up enough to be able to hear her ears ringing.

Laurel shoved Selina off her. "What'd you do that for? I was killing them!"

"Exactly!" Selina countered. "We need a few of them alive to get Harley."

Helena, who had put her guns down, was checking their pulses one by one. Laurel brushed the dirt off her leather-clad self as she rose up. Selina followed suit. "Purple and blue are dead." She stated, matter-of-fact.

"I stabbed the pink one." Laurel said, the  _duh_ evident in her voice as she waved to the corpse behind her. "And that one slit her own throat." She added, gesturing to the white one with the clear cut across her jugular. The blood-tipped knife winked at Selina. "How's Bollywood?"

"Racist much?" Selina snapped.

"Dead." Helena said quietly. "They're all dead." She sighed, sitting on her haunches after checking Harvey's pulse. Selina squinted at him. Fluttered eyelids. She marched over, across the room, to him. "How ironic, a gang full of women and even the big strong guy dies."

"Check again." Selina snarled, thrusting her fist down to his crotch. He yelped, and she slung her hand across his neck. "Shh, this'll be painless." Helena dragged the rifle off the floor, putting her full body into the surging sway. Upon impact, his whole body throbbed. His eyes turned to white as he slumped back from the impact, out cold.

"What'd we do with the bodies?" Laurel asked, kicking the corpse of one of the Harleys closest to her.

"Leave them." Selina groaned as she hoisted Harvey up to split his weight between her and Helena. "Send a message in case Harley comes back."

Helena tried not to think about the mostly ethnic women they had just slaughtered, and focused on the fact they were going to reverse the roles of damsels in distress to use Harvey to draw out Harley. To further distract herself from the singing in her veins, the thrill of the kill, she said, "And now are you going to tell us about how you know Harley?" 

Selina stuttered, saved by the crackling of Oracle in their ears. "Well done, team. You took out Harley's gang of Harleys. I hope you have a plan to use their bodies to bring her back to this warehouse?" Selina looked up at the roof, searching for the red dot above the camera she knew Oracle would use to spy on them. Found it, she thought, and glared at the monitor.

"We're working on it." Helena said, tiredly.

"Good. Car's ready to go outside." She answered formally, politely, then added, "Oh, Harley's got another goon working for her. One that isn't draped in a wannabee costume. She goes by Coach, so watch out for her." Oracle clicked off. The regular check-ins would be hourly, the three women would come to learn.

"Hey," Helena said, "You wanna help us out with him?"

Laurel looked behind her, then placed a hand over her heart. She mouthed  _me_ , then flipped her hair over her shoulder and strutted to the car.

"And here I thought I was going to be the bitchy one." Selina growled, lifting Harvey up and walking backwards as Helena instructed. "I have a feeling she's going to take full ownership of that role in the group."

* * *

Laurel crossed her legs as she shook the cyanide inside the water bottle. Helena and Selina were in the other room of the warehouse, patiently waiting for greenie to wake up. They'd interrogate him, find out what he knows, beat the crap out of him a little. Then she'd give him this, he'd die, and voilà la. Simple enough. She just couldn't stand to sit around and _bond_ with those other women.

The Huntress had been too humane to her torturers, wanting to leave peacefully when they hadn't given second thoughts to jabbing them with those cattle-prods like animals! And Selina had gone alone with it like some _sidekick_. She, for one, was through following anybody's agenda but her own. Zoom had landed her in that two-by-four cube box, imprisoned by so-called heroes. As soon as she was done paying her debt to Oracle, who had gotten her out, she was back in Central City to get revenge on the speedster that dared put her in complete isolation and the two doppelgängers of Frost and Reverb. They'd pay too, for fooling her into it.

Her revenge daydreams were shattered, the voice in her ear buzzing, and she shook herself from her rage. Laurel cleared her throat. "What?"

"Just making sure I can reach you. By yourself." Oracle said, lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. "I need you to do something for me, Black Siren."

"Aren't I already doing enough?"

"Catwoman and The Huntress aren't going to be able to kill Harley Quinn, when you finally catch her. Selina knows her, and has a soft-spot for her, and Helena doesn't want to kill because of... her complicated history with taking life." She said. "So I need you to do it. When the time is right, I need you to kill Harley for me."

Laurel sniffed. "Too _good_ to do it yourself?" She taunted. "What's in it for me?"

Oracle sighed. "I knew you'd say that. Check the crate to your left and open it. Inside the mattress is a fake passport and a new I.D. for you to go wherever you want." Laurel set the bottle down and pried her fingers into the wooden box. The lid shot off, and she dug her arm inside to lift the mattress. Sure enough, there they were. She grinned. "We got a deal, Black Siren?"

She stared down at the photograph of herself, smiling into the camera with blonde highlights. No doubt that had been the Laurel Lance who moonlighted as Black Canary, but she'd take what she could get on this earth. "I'll kill Harley for you." She agreed. "But what're you going to do with the other two?"

"Probably keep them around." Oracle said. "Form a team. But if any of this gets out, that you ever came into contact with me, I will immediately pull the plug on all identification and alert A.R.G.U.S. of your whereabouts. And trust me, if anyone can find you it's me."

"Understood." Laurel said. "My lips are sealed." She let the mattress fall, slipping the top of the crate back over the box labeled FRAGILE. Oracle left and Laurel turned around. Selina was watching. "What?" Laurel demanded.

Selina's eyes wandered from her to the crate. "He's awake."

Laurel shouldered past Selina, making a mental note of moving Oracle's I.D.s for her when she could. Helena had retrieved her crossbow from their lair after searching it for clues to Harley's whereabouts and Coach's existence. She trailed the razor-tip of the bolt down his almost-naked chest and smiled. Digging it into his bare midriff, she outlined the muscled lines of his hips and clamped her hand over his mouth as she threw her leg over his lap and straddled him. "Shh." She cooed, as his screams and cries were stifled by her gloves. Dipping the stirrup of the crossbow into the waistband of his booty shorts, so the bolt was in contact with his crotch, Helena said, "You don't want to make this hard for yourself, now do you?"

Laurel smiled at that. Maybe she had misjudged her. If he got hard from their friction, his erection would get pricked by the bolt of her crossbow. Ouch. Even she would never think of something that twisted. She got closer to observe from a better angle.

He shook his head, eyes wide. His alarmed grunting had gotten impossibly louder. Helena nodded. "If you scream," She warned, her crossbow getting closer to his manhood. He made an understanding noise, shutting his eyes. She unclasped her hand from his mouth.

"I-I'm gay! Gay!" Harvey cried out, eyes watering. "Please don't shoot my dick." He implored.

Helena rolled her eyes, getting off him. One hand on her hip, she pointed the crossbow to his chest. "I won't. As long as you talk."

"Where's Harley?" Selina asked.

"And who's Coach?" Laurel added, far more worried about _another_ Harley-obsessed fan. "Is she coming for us?"

"She's in a wheelchair." Harvey gasped out, frantic eyes bolting from the crossbow to Laurel. "And blind, completely blind. S-She's sort of gained heightened senses because of it. But I don't know where Harley is."

Helena whipped the crossbow's fletcher across his face. She was so quick that a delayed deep gashed formed seconds afterward, blood running. He yelped, hissing in pain. Selina stomped forward, gripping his neckline.

Lavisously drawing down his chest with one claw-tipped hand, she mocked, "Why don't we just cut off his head and use that to bring Harley in?"

"Or rip out his tongue, if he's not going to use it to help us." Helena threw in, with a casual cadence that thrilled Laurel. Harvey opened his mouth in a desperate bargain. Selina, lightning quick, her hand a sharp blur, wrapped her fingers around his tongue and _squeezed_. Helena cupped her ear. "Huh? What was that? You're going to tell us where Harley is?"

Harvey nodded vigorously, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He didn't dare try to move. Selina smirked wickedly. She pulled softly, then let his tongue flip back into his mouth like she was snapping a rubber band. "Agh! She said she was meeting someone, a colleague, the one who freed her."

"Specficis." Helena demanded in a harsh bark. "We need a location."

"Somewhere inconspicuous," He rambled, "Definately Topaz City, uh, oh god, she said--said something about hiding in plain sight. No, no, please." Selina stretched out her fingers, claws popped out and spectacularly curved, over his black leather-clad crotch, "Jesus, m-maybe a bell tower or a church or something!"

Selina smiled slowly, lipstick-bled teeth bared. She retracted her claws, blithely standing up with a bounce. "I know where Harley's gone."

"What? Where?"

"There's no bell tower in Topaz, but there is a clocktower that used to be a cathedral." Selina said. "My bets are on there."

"Well, can we call it in to Oracle? Have her hack the city cameras outside the clocktower to see if Harley parked there or something?" Helena asked.

As if on cue, Oracla crackled in their ear. "I'm always watching, girls."

"Got you, Charlie." Helena said dryly, not lowering the crossbow from above Harvey's heart. Her finger was so slippery on the trigger, she was jumping to twitch and let that bolt fly. "Send your Angels in."

"Get here quick, ladies. We've got an issue." Her tone was rumpled with an undercurrent of fear and panic. Helena didn't like it. "Harley isn't meeting an associate. She's meeting me. And her gang are all here with her, she must've sent decoys to torture you at the warehouse."

That was just the excuse Helena was waiting for. She scoped Harvey's face, analysing it, and saw the sick satisfaction he gained from seeing the sheer worry behind her eyes. "We met in Arkham." Harvey said. "She's _very_ persuasive." Helena didn't need to hear more. She released the arrow, raising her arm to have it blast between the decoy's eyes. Blood spattered. His head was thrown back, head hanging bonelessly with the arrow pointing straight up.

"I'll drive."

"We might need backup." Selina said.

"Good." A gruff voice rumbled. They turned around in unison to see him, The Green Arrow, in his sleeveless leather green namesake getup. "But first..."

"You've got some explaining to do." Beside him, a slimmer, crimson-sporting man added. He had swapped The Arrow's hood for a full-blown cowl, with his trademark lightning bolt scattered down his chest. The Flash.

"Oh--" Helena began.

"Balls." Laurel finished.

Selina smirked. "Tall, dark and handsome and tall, lean and twinky." She purred. "Now that's a man sandwich I'd like to be a part of. Fast meets furious."

"Don't bet on it." Laurel said, under her breath. "You could cut the sexual tension between them with, well..." She trailed off, eyebrows high and smiles even higher.

"Hmm." Selina purred, biting her fingernail. "Can I watch? Be honest," She said, staring at The Flash, "You're the top, right? Men like him," Selina threw a salaciously lewd look over at Green Arrow, "Love to be utterly  _dominated_." Flash nervously opened and closed his mouth, like a fish, face flushing as he looked at Green Arrow, who was completely stoic. Had she hit a nerve? Selina giggled.

"We don't have time for this." Helena cut in. "Harley and her gang of Harleys are about to make Oracle her new piñata. Let's move."

"Who's Oracle?" Laurel heard The Flash ask Green Arrow from behind them. It was very hero-y of them to blindly follow the three women into battle, not that they needed their help. Laurel stopped, dead in her tracks, a breath of amazement slipping past her lips.

"The woman that left those for us." Helena told Flash, staring at the three glossy black motorcycles, styled and cut to each individual. Helena's had crossbows built into the handles, purple streaked through the black paint. She grinned as she tossed on the helmet, riding the bike and revving it. She knew Oliver's eyes were on her as she peeled away from the abandoned recycling centre, flanked by her teammates Black Siren and Catwoman.

* * *

Catwoman led the way on her matte black bike. It was clear this wasn't the first time she was using one. She rode the sleek deathtrap masterfully, speeding off every red light and breaking every speed limit on the back roads they were using to cut through to the clocktower.

She felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to her ribs as she flipped up off the bike, kicking the side to station it beside the colourfully decorated van that could only belong to Harley. The Huntress and Black Siren slotted their bikes beside her's.

The Huntress loaded a bolt onto her crossbow. "Ready?"

Balck Siren cracked her neck side-to-side. The Flash skidded to a halt next to them, Green Arrow unsteadily on his feet beside him. He had an arm around The Flash's neck, and his face was greener than his suit. The Flash circled his waist to steady him. "You really need to stop doing that." He huffed out.

"Wait here." The Flash said. "I'll go check inside and see if they're all there."

"She could have the place rigged." Huntress said, side-eyeing Green Arrow. Shew knew it was what he was thinking, too. "You step a foot in there and Harley could have set the whole thing up to blow. Are you fast enough to make sure no one gets hit by the blast?"

Through the slit in his cowl, The Flash's expression was one of sternly jaw-clenching solemness. He shook his head.

"I think I know how to avoid causing a scene." Catwoman said, a glimmer in her eye that simultaneously made The Huntress uneasy and Black Siren excited. She carefully unwound a bullwhip from the tail-end of her motorbike, and coiled it around her waist so it hung behind her like a tail.

"All you need now is a bell." Black Siren said flatly, with an ironic smirk that made Catwoman meet her gaze with fondness and not heat. She was growing on her.

She turned around, crouching, and _meowed_ toward the other end of the street out of the blue. Catwoman sat there, on her haunches, waiting with an irrational patience that made The Huntress start toward her. _Was she crazy?_ Green Arrow caught her arm, yanking her back. The Flash cocked his head. Green Arrow raised a finger to his full lips, rasping against his beard. Helena tried hard not to stare at his lips as he raised his thick blunt finger to his ears. Listen.

Ringing. An actual bell, was ringing down the pavement.

"I was just kidding." Black Siren said dryly.

A jet black cat with seeming unnatural glowing yellow eyes dashed into Catwoman's arms. "Ooh," She cooed, burrowing into its fur, "Meet the Mistress of Plunder," She introduced, turning around to show the ball of fur to the others standing in awe as she coddled the cat. "AKA Madame Moderne."

"How is a cat going to help us?" The Flash asked innocently, turning to look around the group before the other shoe dropped. "Oh."

Catwoman sashayed forward. "You strapping young lads, quick, give me a boost so I can get to that window." 

"That's more than ten feat up." Green Arrow pointed out, emotionless. Catwoman stared back, unwavering confident. A beat passed. "Fine, Flash?" He and The Flash lay down a patchwork of their fingers, allowing Catwoman to step down on their interlocked hands. "One, two..." In unison, they propelled her upward. As she was launched into the air, she curled into a gymnast's picture-perfect ball form and flipped once, twice, three times before releasing her cat through the open window. It hissed as it darted through, leaving Catwoman to hook herself onto the ledge of the window. She threw a leg over, bending at impossible feats, and slipped through. They could just barely make out her shadowy form as she clung to the roof, while the cat belted through the rafter beams.

"What is she, a lizard?" The Flash scoffed. "Is she a metahuman?"

Black Siren smirked her trademark bad girl smirk. "She's Catwoman." She said, with a proud flourish to her words. "Dumbass."

"So what's the plan, here, Helena?" Green Arrow whispered. The Huntress nailed him with a bleak look. "We can't go in, arrows blazing."

"No one asked you to go in." She replied, jutting out her hip as she glared him down. "This is our fight, Ollie."

He sighed, wiping a hand down his masked face. "No one's saying otherwise. It just seems foolish to go in with no actual game plan, here. For all we know, they've already killed your friend and are using her to lure you all here to kill you, too."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take." The Huntress declared.

"You don't know these people." Green Arrow insisted, his eyes coldly darting to Black Siren. Laurel.

"Neither do you."

His arm came down to touch her hand. "Helena."

"No." The Huntress snapped, ripping out of his tender hold. "You don't get to say that and swoop in to the rescue, Ollie." She fiercely cried, her eyes wild. "Not when you  _promised_ me, and not once did you come."

The crease between his eyebrows folded over. "To bail you out?" Green Arrow said. "Of course not."

"To visit." Helena Bertinelli told him, and she watched as the realization cracked across his face. "I would have died for you once. Not anymore, not now." He reached for her a second time, Black Siren watched the stupidity unfolding in front of her as he thought his touch would cure her of something, of the power she held within herself. Flash did too, and The Huntress swept her crossbow through the air, arcing to land at his throat. "I don't owe you anything. Stay out of the way."

Catwoman looped herself through the window, whistling. She gestured for them to join her, letting her whip fall down to them.

"Siren," The Huntress said, an air of authority seeping through her words, "Follow Cat. Flash, Arrow, go through the main doors and sweep the perimeter." She ordered. Green Arrow came to a stop behind her, opening his mouth when she repeated, harsher this time, " _Sweep the perimeter_."

Catwoman held the whip like a rope, pulling Black Siren up with it as she walked up the side of the tower with slow precision. Once there, Catwoman yanked her inside onto the thin rafter. The Huntress was next. She was faster up the tower, rolling through the window herself as the three women assembled together. "Harley's got her gang split up, two on each floor. The highest point, where the actual clock is--that's where Oracle's being held."

"How many floors?"

"We're on the second." Catwoman said. "Where's Green Bean and Scarlet?"

"Sweeping the perimeter."

She nodded. "They'll take out the foot-soldiers then."

"How many Harleys do we need to go through?" Black Siren asked. "How many are with Oracle?"

"She was alone when I saw her."

"A trap." Huntress stated. "Alright, let's split up and move upwards. No one goes to save Oracle by themselves, we wait for each other. Got it?"

"Got it." Catwoman flexed her claws.

"If you hear a scream," Black Siren said, "Don't worry."

* * *

"How many damn floors are there?" Catwoman grunted. A gun cocked behind her. She ducked. The bullet shattered the window in front of her. She swept out her leg, catching the Harley and knocking her down. Pinning her knees to the Harley's shoulders, she slammed her wrists down on the ground and the gun clattered away. Grinning, Catwoman said, "What does Harley want with Oracle?"

The Harley, clad in blue and black, shook her head. She was biting her tongue to keep from talking. Catwoman noticed the dent in her jaw and smiled. She rammed her elbow up, and blood squirted out her mouth. Catwoman rolled off her before it spattered her, but by the way she was coughing up blood she knew the indentation on her tongue was deep. Flicking her leg up, she soared the edge of her boot into the back of the Harley's head. She hit the wooden floor harder than Catwoman thought possible. She looked to her right. Another staircase.

* * *

Black Siren continued to whistle as she made her way up. Whistling while she worked. A Harley stationed at the foot of the next flight of stairs spotted her, alarm shooting through her. It was the orange Harley. She unclipped a grenade from her belt, holding it overhead like a knife. Black Siren kept walking, throwing out a fist to her chest. The impact momentarily stopped her, as she froze up completely. Black Siren whirred her around and _screamed_.

The sonic waves of her scream were so strong they were visible in the air. The Harley, with next to no breath in her lungs, wheezed as she was thrown out the window. The grenade went off halfway through the fall. It was a weak explosion, barely shaking the foundation of the clocktower. What little glass it had left had been shattered to unredeemable pieces. Black Siren laughed, a high note, as she heard The Flash cry out from the explosion.

* * *

The Huntress knew there were six Harleys, and a Coach. Harley herself would be guarding Oracle, and she doubted Coach would be in the clocktower at all. If two were located at each floor, and she was on the next to highest, then she should have run into one by now. But she hadn't. She knew from the commotion around her, Black Siren and Catwoman had. And The Flash and Green Arrow had probably taken out the ones guarding the entrance. She knew they wouldn't continue to be on the sidelines for long, maybe they had taken out the Harleys she should have run into.

Oracle.

She back-tracked, slotting her back against a pillar. She was tied up to a chair, groaning. Gagged. No one was guarding her, The Huntress saw as she peeked behind the stone. Which meant it was set up for a trap. She tapped her earpiece, hoping that the receiver was double-sided. Oracle was sitting facing three computer monitors. This was her base of operations. She had to know if someone was trying to contact her.

One of the screens loaded up a picture of her, with an audio correspondence. Oracle's back went stiff.

"Well, well," A voice said, and The Huntress retreated once more. "Looks like your Birds are coming, aren't they? From the sound of if, they've pretty much taken out most of my gang. Oh, what's that? Here, let me just--"

"Ugh." Oracle grunted. She removed the gag. Why? "You're a fool for thinking you mean something to Harley Quinn. She doesn't need you, Coach, or any of these Harleys. She needs lackies."

Coach laughed and the sound was like sandpaper scraping skin. "You think Harley put together these wannabee gangsters? _Ha_! She came to me, asking for help in finding loyal crazies to match her crazy doll-looking ass. And guess what? Even if your friends kill the impostor Harleys, and the real Harleys, there are always a new wave of psychos looking to score by helping out their favorite maniac. I'm just the fuel to the fire, babe."

"So you don't matter to Harley, either. Good to know."

"On the contrary." Coach said. "I'm the only one that does matter to her. I was blinded at four. Lost both of my legs in a hit and run at six. Harley trusts me because I look defenseless, weak. But I'm anything but. The heightened sense bullshit from being blind, it's true. How _insane_ is that? But Harley doesn't keep me around for my extra sense of taste. I handle the business end. The assignments, the money, the training. You see, there's always going to be another Jewish Hannah who's willing to be doused in blue to prove herself to her super daddy. There's always going to be a tougher-than-nails Carlita with a fix for purple, just like there's no shortage of Indian barbies named Shona who work themselves to death at dead-end jobs. It's as easy to get her in orange as it to get an Asian Erica in pink, who just wants to stand out in her male-oriented family while remaining feminine and pink. The world's always going to be churning out reality-checking Antonias, who are black but look great in white, and Harveys who are gay and buff but can give up their whole wardrobe to a hundred percent green. But there's only ever going to be one Holly Hamden, one Coach, do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Oracle spat, "You've got a massive chip on your shoulder."

Catwoman tapped The Huntress, who raised a finger to her lips. Black Siren appeared at her other side, taking cover.

Coach laughed. "I guess that's the real question to you, isn't it? Was I always going to be a bitch or did the world make me this way because of everything it took? Harley sees a kindred spirit in me, that's never going to change. But those Harleys come and go. At the end of the day--"

"Her Mistah J is all she cares about." Oracle abruptly finished for her. "Yeah, I know."

"No." Coach bristled. "Me. I'm the one she cares about, the only one."

"Good." Black Siren said, coming out from her hiding place. "Then she's really going to feel it when we kill you."

Coach raised her Glock to Oracle's face. Catwoman flanked Black Siren, her whip slithering behind her, and The Huntress trained her crossbow to Coach's hand. "Where's your hunky male friends? Scared of hitting a woman?"

The Huntress smiled. "Ask them yourself."

Coach craned her neck over her shoulder, one hand on the wheel of her wheelchair and the other trembling to steady her hold on the gun. Catwoman lashed out her whip. It spiralled over the Glock and with a firm wrench of her arm, the gun arched through the air to land in Catwoman's paw. Coach swore under her breath.

"It's over." The Huntress said, advancing without breaking eye contact. Catwoman handed the gun to Black Siren, who held it awkwardly and mirrored The Huntress' stance as Catwoman went to snick her claws over the ropes binding Oracle to the chair in the middle of the room.

"Where's Harley?" Black Siren asked.

"See for yourself." Coach taunted.

A heavy swing came from behind them. The air broke around it. Black Siren ducked. The full impact of the mallet smashed into The Huntress. Harley yipped as she raised it again. Her peroxide white-blonde hair hung in two ponytails at the side of her head, her black and red leotard was matched with ripped fishnets. Catwoman snapped her whip at Harley's feet, making her leap backwards.

"Kitty!" She cried, opening her arms wide. "Come give mama a hug."

Black Siren tackled Harley Quinn.

A strong arm went around Catwoman's neck, holding her in a choke. She pressed her chin downward so it couldn't cut off circulation, pushing backwards against her assailant. With her powerful legs, she jumped up. Flipping in the air, Catwoman used her whip to tangle around her attacker as she landed smoothly onto her feet behind them. She spun them around, the whip leaving gashes on their skin and side-kicked. It was a Harley, one that hadn't been taken out yet. Harlem Harley. She rolled on the floor, her latex black and white shining.

The Huntress groaned, feeling like a rib had been splintered, as she got to her feet unsteadily. Coach rolled away from her, her arms frantically pumping her wheels. "No!" She screeched, helplessly holding out a hand as she watched Coach spin out of a broken window. Her black sunglasses cracked to the floor of the clocktower, her mousy brown hair flapping in the wind.

But it wasn't wind. It was the whipping blades of a helicopter. Harley looked up as Coach flew out, safely tucked behind bulletproof glass. "Coach! Where ya goin' without me?"

She slammed her palm against the window. You could barely make out her words, but her lips were clear, "I'll come back for you."

"She can't fly, she's blind!" Harley whined, her pitchy voice straining.

"Dumb blonde." Black Siren growled, ramming her elbow into Harley's blanched-out face. "She has a driver."

Harley caught her elbow, wrestling her to roll over. "Ha, jokes on you, dumb blonde Harley, I'm not even a real blonde." She snagged her mallet and held it over Black Siren, her eyes manically widening like saucers. Black Siren blindly reached out, patting down the floor for the gun she had dropped.

The Huntress rolled, seizing her crossbow and firing. The bolt barely grazed her hand but it was enough for Black Siren to fill her lungs and  _howl_ under Harley. She clasped her ears. Black Siren punched her with her left hook, squarely on the jaw.

Oracle had grabbed the gun. She was holding it over The Huntress' head. She froze, staring into the redhead's eyes. "What're you doing?" She whispered, as Oracle squeezed the trigger. A disgruntled yelp came from behind her. Harvey. His green knuckledusters splintered the wood as he attempted to catch himself from falling. His exposed shoulder was jetting blood onto his cropped tank top.

Huntress loaded a bolt onto her crossbow, sitting on Harvey's back as she yanked his hair up to train the arrow into his neck. Catwoman followed her lead, snapping out her whip to curl around Harlem's ankle and drag her towards her razor-pointed claws.

"Harley?" Oracle called out, the gun aimed between her eyes. She hadn't moved from the chair yet.

Black Siren kept a firm grip on the back of her neck, shaking her awake. Harley gasped, her whole body twitching. "I was napping." She panted, wiping the saliva from her lipstick-stained lips. "What's going on? I'll eat out your spleen, get away from me or you'll be _spleenless_!"

"Shut up, or my girls will rip out your Harleys' throats." Oracle warned.

Harley's eyes filled with tears. "But they're the best ones!" She complained, wailing when Black Siren yanked her arms behind her back and kicked the back of her knees so she'd fall to the ground. The Huntress pressed her crossbow deeper into Harvey's throat, so he'd let out a soft whimper. Harley held her breath. She broke into the widest grin, ear-to-ear, and made a belittling guttural sound. "Alright, already. _Jee_!"

"C'mon, Oracle, help me tie her up." Black Siren said, keeping her knee on Harley's spine as she held her to the floor. "Oracle?"

The bespectacled redhead leaned forward, her features shadowed. "I'm paralyzed from the waist down." She said softly. "Harley's boyfriend did it to me. That's why I couldn't go after her myself and that's why I needed to get her back into A.R.G.U.S.'s care." She confessed, looking up. "I'm Barbara Gordon."

"Nice to meet ya, Barbs, I'm Harley--" Black Siren grabbed the back of her head and slammed it into the floor. Harley began snoring as soon as Siren let go of her tied-up hair.

The Flash and Green Arrow stumbled into the clocktower hastily.

"Hey, Flash," Catwoman said, "Mind giving us a hand?"

"Sure thing." He nodded, a bolt of red splashed with yellow while he zoomed around the room. He stopped in front of the glowing monitors, hands on his hips, with a triumphant grin. Harley, Harlem and Harvey were strapped together with thick rope at his feet. "Ollie, you wanna call in A.R.G.U.S.?"

" _Green Arrow_." He corrected, and turned away with a phone to his ear.

Catwoman went to stand by Oracle, Black Siren and The Huntress crowding her. "I wonder if he's fast in bed, or if he could slow down?" She wondered out loud, loud enough for The Flash to hear and go beet red. "Hm." She purred. "So innocent." The Huntress slapped her arm. "What?" Catwoman cried. "A girl's gotta get her catnip somewhere."

"I thought we established he was bottoming-out that one." Black Siren pointed over at Green Arrow.

Catwoman cocked her head. "Well, his ass is tighter than mine." She appreciated, staring at how the leather hugged every curve. "Helena would know." She elbowed the other woman.

"Stop. Talking." The Huntress hissed.

Green Arrow clicked off his phone. "Lyla Diggle's on her way." He said. "So I guess we'll be taking our leave, then."

"Thanks for all your help," Oracle said, "But I think my Birds have got it from here."

"Birds?" Black Siren asked.

"You're my Birds of Prey." Oracle answered.

"Cisco's gonna love that name." The Flash said.

* * *

"Holly Hamden was obsessed with Harley Quinn." Barbara said. "She sought her out in Gotham and finally got the chance to meet her in Arkham, where she pretended to be visiting her father. That's when they came up with the gang. After they broke her out, A.R.G.U.S. caught Harley. And A.R.G.U.S. is not Arkham."

"So what happens now?" Laurel asked.

"Lyla Diggle, the new director of A.R.G.U.S., has a search party looking for her. Hopefully, they'll catch her." Barbara raised a shoulder.

Helena cleared her throat. "I think she meant with us."

"Oh. Well, as a thank you Lyla's issued this clocktower to us. It's our official base of operations, and A.R.G.U.S. has officially cleared your name, Helena. You're not a fugitive, as long as they're concerned." She said.

"Oh, goodie." Selina said. "Can we order pizza now, I'm dying of starvation."

Barbara nodded, smiling slightly. She wheeled out of the room.

"Well." Helena said. "I dedicated The Huntress' life to stopping my father. Never thought she'd see the light of day again."

Selina laughed. "Honey, haven't you already figured it out? She's as much as part of you as Helena Bertinelli is. The Huntress is as alive and breathing as Catwoman is, or Black Siren."

"I only became Black Siren," Laurel said, "Because of my sister."

"What happened?" Helena asked.

Laurel smiled that evil smirk of her's. "That's a story for another time."

"Where are you going?" Barbara asked, wheeling back to the room. "I just ordered Hawaiian."

"Save me a slice."

Helena scoffed. "You have somewhere to be?"

"I guess we're all in the same boat. No day job, no other life except for... Catwoman." Selina said. "It's strange, I was somebody in Gotham."

"I was someone on my earth," Laurel said, "Someone everyone feared. Here, I'm a dead woman."

Helena nodded. "I'm a criminal."

"Well, I for one will be glad to eat a whole pizza by myself." Barbara said.

Laurel hesitated. "Fine. I'll stay. Only if we change the name."

"What's wrong with the Birds of Prey?" Barbara scoffed, offended.

"It's not that catchy for a P.I. firm." Laurel said.

"Who said anything about--"

"How else are we going to get money?" She asked.

Selina shrugged. "She's got a point."

"All my money's either frozen or taken by the government." Helena said, nodding sorrowfully. "Charlie's Angels, it is!"

"God, I hate that movie." Barbara grumbled.

Selina dropped her jaw to the floor. "How? It's like the campiest espionage movie ever, all they do is dress up and go around fighting assholes."

Barbara watched as they argued and chatted like... sisters. She didn't think this would happen so quickly.   **I am Barbara Gordon. These are my Birds of Prey.**

* * *

"Well done on getting Harley out of A.R.G.U.S." She said, from her throne.

"Thank you." The other woman replied, not daring to meet her eyes as she stood slouched over. The ice surrounding her was starting to get to the other woman. "I'm just glad to be of any use to you. Can I ask you what's next, now?" She braved.

Caitlin Snow smiled. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, narrowing her cold eyes. "I'll get what I want soon, now that I have their attention. But for now," She trailed off, clenching her frosted hand on the edge of her frozen throne. "Get me someone to feed on. I'm cold." She demanded, and the other woman left with the urgency that was well placed when dealing with her. Caitlin's breath puffed out in a chilly white cloud, teeth chattering. " _S-So c-c-cold_."


End file.
